There is little to know about how witches came to be. It was said that they were one of the first to oppose the laws of the world, therefore opposing its creator. The gate of eternal damnation, opened by their call, has brought forth the capability of ruining human life and all that it is. Witches rarely act in groups, for their unyielding pride is their biggest sin, and when they choose to set it aside, they are capable of bringing forth disaster to all unfortunate enough to come across them.
"That's the last of them." I speak, my throat parched from the night before as we toss the last body onto the truck sent by the Office, disguised as an ordinary green garbage truck. I pat the side, its faded paint coming off as I strike. "She's all good!" The driver hears me, taking off as I join Anthony inside the manor.
There was no trace of last night's incident remaining, now perfectly neat as I eye Anthony lying on the couch, still in the same tattered clothes from the encounter. "I should probably get a raise. This shit ain't worth twice the salary they've been giving us." He lets out an exasperated sigh, eyes closed as he lets his body slump down even more into the cushion. "The Office really has a way of getting rid of things." He mutters, talking about their quick work of hiding anything that might give off what we do.
I walk to the kitchen, looking for a drink to get my throat to stop screaming. Behind one of the cupboards lies an unopened bottle of wine, labeled simply as ADAM'S: DO NOT TOUCH. You're gonna have to forgive me in the afterlife Mason. I walk back towards the living room and sit myself down on chair opposite of Anthony, a welcome relief to the pain of running around all night. He looks at me, eyebrow raised. "What?"
"Wouldn't this be considered drinking on the job?" He scoffs, sitting up as he looks at me pour myself a glass. "Like honestly, you're taking alcohol like it's medicine."
I ignore him, downing one glass and swiftly pouring more. "It is medicine." My finger points to my head, tapping the side as if making a point. "For here." To help me forget.
Anthony doesn't reply for a while, fiddling with the table as if something interesting would appear if he kept going. He speaks, breaking the silence. "You still don't blame yourself for what happened back then, do you?"
Back then. What really happened back then? I keep my mouth shut, keeping the steady pattern of pouring and drinking until I approach the halfway point of the bottle. "Brandon tell you that?" The bottle slams a lot harder than intended, causing a small crack on the center table. "That idiot should really learn to keep his mouth shut."
"Not Brandon, the reports. Almost everybody knows about the incident, considering they call you a hero for what you prevented." He pauses, looking down. "It wasn't hard to piece everything together, knowing everybody who paid their lives for that."
I put the glass down and get up, a bit uneasy from the alcohol. "It's what we do. If we don't do what we have to, no one will." My feet wobble, losing their strength. I need sleep. Anthony doesn't get up, instead he pulls his head back, resting it on the back board. My eyes meet his and I see concern, the same worried look Eve used to give me. "This is what we signed up for." I say, before crashing onto the bed of our room. Drowsiness overcomes me and slowly, I fall into its clutches.
The alarm blares, screaming at me to get up. I pick up the phone and try to see what time it was. 3:21 PM. I push myself up, my head surprisingly clearer than I expected it to be. My eyes search the room, expecting some sort of attack to come out at any second. Of course not. The faint scent of bacon fills the room, making me realize how hungry I really was.
"Hey Mike, you up?" Anthony comes bursting into the door, making me jump. "Went around town to ask a few questions, found some interesting stuff. I'll tell you about it as you eat, so hurry up and get ready." He shuts the door, leaving me to go prepare.
I arrive at the dining table to see him reading the newspaper. "You're twenty-five, ten years older than me and you have probably read more newspapers than I have in my lifetime." Which was true, newspapers rarely contained anything helpful for me, other than news of possible cases for us to take. "What did you find?" I ask, now curious as to what he had to give.
"With the amount of noise we made last night, one would think that we'd wake up the entire neighborhood. Maybe even have people knock on the door while we were trying not to get our eyes yanked out." Now that he's mentioned it, there really was no reaction from all the ruckus Rheya caused. "So I went around town to ask about Rheya and you know what they gave me?"
"What?" I ask as I lean closer.
"They all said that Rheya doesn't exist. I even pointed out Adam and they all turned aggressive towards me, talking about how I was spewing nonsense.��� Adam pauses, putting all of the case folders in front of me. "The relatives of the victims acted weird too, almost as if they've forgotten about what happened."
I put my weight onto the back of the wooden chair, trying to digest everything Anthony said. "Have you reported this to the Office?"
"Phone lines were suddenly cut. Almost unbelievable we even got the cleanup crew here in the first place." He tosses my phone to me as evidence, a large text written on the screen. NO SIGNAL.
"You heard about the Dancing Plague of 1518?" A possibility occurs to me, one that I believe was the case of what was happening here in this small quiet town.
Anthony looks at me, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Yeah, it was said it was actually the work of…" His voice trails off, coming to the same conclusion as I have. "The work of witches."
"Mass Hysteria, a phenomena that affects a certain number of people where they exhibit similar if not the same collective behavior, transmitted through some sort of illusion." This was in fact, a work orchestrated by witches, who found ways to conjure even stronger illusions.
"But Rheya is dead, and even if there were others, that would mean we're dealing with a much more powerful witch, one capable of leading a coven." Anthony's eyes widen, the reality hitting him. "We need to get out of here."